


To care

by weirdy_w0nd3r



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Assault, Attempted Sexual Assault, Hurt/Comfort, I’m not adding anything else for the sake of being vague, Other, its like an au though, just be careful, kind of curious Happenstance universe?, like hurt/ kind of comfort though, non-graphic, strangers are bastards, this is really bad, uhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:54:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25397986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weirdy_w0nd3r/pseuds/weirdy_w0nd3r
Summary: Hey! Read the fucking tags! Bad things happen! Be careful and stay safe
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	To care

**Author's Note:**

> Once again read the tags! There’s attempted harm to a main character, nothing is graphic and there’s no depiction of extreme harm but intent and action is there. Stay safe.

_Pershing, where the hell is Pershing?_

The dust kicks up under his boots with each step, boots pounding against the dry ground with enough force to knock someone out. 

_ Where the hell could he have gone?  _

The only place they hadn’t checked was the town. Except there was no way to know where he’d be. “We never should have left the damn ship,” Din grumbled, scanning the bustling street. People walked past a little disturbed but no one dared address him. 

That happens when you walk as though you have murder on your mind. He very well might if he can’t find Pershing. 

Din had given up checking if Chris and Pedro we’re behind him, it would be better if they didn’t follow. Instead he focused on scanning the area, marching down the street and keeping his focus on if he could hear or see the man. 

“-a pretty thing like you shouldn’t be here alone is all,” a voice growls from one of the alleys. “Let me help you out.” 

It makes his gut curl but it’s not his focus. Not his problem. These things happen, this world is a hell hole of crime and horror. They never should have come. But he sees it, just barely at the corner of his eye. The glint of glass as he passes. He has to throw himself against the wall of the building so the man doesn’t see him. 

“You’re shaking like a baby krugga, just- agh, hold still,” the man grunts out, followed by a pained whimper.

_I’m gonna rip his throat out._

But still he waits. He’s not letting either of them leave. Slowly, his hand drifts down his side to his boot, wrapping tightly around the blade nestled inside. “Kriffing hold still-“ Din leans forward until he can see them. The glimpse of a hand, held tight against his waist, and the squirming man pressed into the wall. The other hand is on the man’s mouth, and just barely he can see the shine of pristine glass resting half off his nose. 

He waits, waits until the bastard shifts his arm to hold against Pershing’s chest, shoving him into the stone in a way that must hurt badly. Then he moves, diving swiftly into the small space and shoving his boot forward with the same force he had used running into town. The man is a blur as he hits the floor with a shout. 

Din sinks to straddle him, one arm on his throat and the other holding his blade tightly. “I think your done here,” he growls lowly. 

“Oh stars, kriff off! This has nothing to do with you bucket head-“ he’s cut off with a gasp as Din presses his arm harder into his throat. 

_ “Done.”  _

The man chokes for several more moments before he lets up. After that he might as well not be there. Din turns to help Pershing back to his feet, holding his arms to guide him. He’s trembling and can’t quite seem to catch his breath. Still, he lets Din lift him simply grasping his chest plate with all of his force. It’s not a lot. 

They stand there for a brief few moments, time finally catching up to them. Pershing opens his mouth to speak only to be cut off by a rugged cough and the sound of crates rattling over. 

The man is back on his feet, staring Din down. He looks prepared to throttle him but doesn’t get very far. Another swift kick to his chest shoves him into the dirt with a disturbing crack. He doesn’t move again apart from the shallow rise of his chest. 

“Do you want me to kill him?” 

“Tempting, but no.” He coughs harshly. Din isn’t convinced. 

“Thank stars,” Din sighs, finally turning back to the doctor. He actually takes a good look at him too, letting his visor hide his eyes as he sweeps a glance across his frame. He’s still trembling but his breath has steadied. Face flushed deep not the only evidence of a struggle. His clothes are awry, which he tries to discretely even out again. Din doesn’t miss him having to button his pants again. 

“Are you alright? Or do you need another moment.” Pershing hardly looks like he can move, let alone walk, but he has to ask. 

He simply shakes his head, eyes trained on the ground. “I want as far away from here as possible.” 

It’s hours later when he finally gets a word with Pershing. They’re back on the ship, the others up in the cargo bay while he sits tucked away in the hold. It’s colder down there usually, but since the child decided it was the perfect place to play Din had the place padded up a little. It had only helped so much. 

Now, he’s curled up on the doctor’s lap giggling and trying to grab the toy he’s holding. They go back and forth for a while, he pulls the toy away, then slowly moves it to where the child can reach. The process repeats. Din stays in the doorway watching until the child finally claims his prize, squealing in delight and bashing the stuffed bantha head against the ground. 

“Hey,” Din starts, voice soft. Pershing still jolts, looking up at him. “Would you like to talk?” 

Pershing shrugs but shifts to sit criss cross, making room for Din to sit beside him. He does, having to lower himself carefully to the floor. His armor still clinks against the steel with a harsh sound. He cringes. 

It’s silent for a long few minutes, the only one moving being the child still gleefully bashing the stuffed toy onto the floor. Din hopes that Pershing will say something, anything, but resides himself to starting the conversation. 

“He didn’t hurt you, did he?” It sounds like he doesn’t want anyone else in the world to hear. As if somehow, if the child or someone above heard them the world would shatter. He hopes the doctor can tell his concern despite the visor over his eyes. 

Pershing shifts uncomfortably, “a little, he shoved me pretty hard at that wall. I won’t need any bacta or anything though, it’s just a few bruises and scrapes.” For a second Din thinks he’s going to say more, but he doesn’t. 

He should say something. 

_ Just say something. The silence is deafening say something.  _

“Thank you.” 

“Hm?” 

“Thank you, I uh, I didn’t think you were going to come looming for me I...” Pershing stutters about, saving a hand around half heartedly. “I figured you’d be fine now that the ship was dealt with. But you went looking for me. It might’ve saved my life.” 

Din ponders on it, watching the child stumble across the floor after the toy he’d thrown. “He wouldn’t have killed you, but he would’ve hurt you more if I didn’t show up,” he decides out loud. 

“Maybe,” Pershing picks at his nails, “but still, thank you.” 

The distance this time is much longer, but it’s not bad. It’s comfortable. And it’s not quite silent, the occasional giggle coming from the two as Pershing plays with the child. It devolves into an exaggerated game of catch, with the child tossing it back and forth with it’s powers. 

“I don’t like killing people.” 

Din is the first to speak this time, tearing the doctor’s attention away from the child as he tosses the toy back over. 

“You were a bounty hunter?” Pershing insists, puzzled. 

“No I know but, I don’t _like_ killing people,” Din shifts uncomfortably. 

Pershing stares into his visor as though he’s trying to catch the man’s gaze and it only furthers the feeling. He looks anywhere, anywhere else. The scars on the doctor’s neck, the scabs along his nail line, the child chewing on the stuffed beast. Anything. 

He hesitates, visibly unsure if he should speak. “You offered to kill him for me.” 

_ He understood. _

Din nods. 

A look passed that he couldn’t quite place before it was gone. Soft, understanding maybe. He’s almost frustrated that he didn’t catch it. “Thank you.” 

Pershing doesn’t bring it up again. Din doesn’t bring up the button. 

He takes the kid back up to the cockpit with him, strapping him in so they can land. And Pershing acts as though nothing happened at during the day at all. 

_ Maybe it’s better that way.  _


End file.
